Happiness
More or less
It’s just a change in me

But how many corners do I have to turn?
How many times do I have to learn
All the love I have is in my mind?

(The Verve)

Apparently my impeccable musical taste is also great help in my daily dealings with life. My Zen approach to life and its many aspects is an ongoing project. It’s really weird to let go of my anxiety and just live in the now. I have occasional setbacks, when I decide to dip my head in the past and go rummage through those murky filthy waters, but I am finding it easier and easier to just look up. Sometimes I get worried I’m just building my new foundations on shaky denial territory, but not denying denial is the first step to recovery, right? Or is that just the most delusional statement? Let me repeat my zen mantra: whatever.

I have been playing a lot of WoW lately.

See? Even my cat thinks I play too much

I have retreated from public life and am now enjoying my virtual life made of fun, sometimes aggravating, but always entertaining people. I haven’t fully retreated from public life, in truth (not unless it’s raid Saturday, that is), I am getting back in touch with some awesome people from my past. Sometimes successfully, other times… not so much. I need to learn to let go of some of these people. I can’t take the drama and the horrid flashbacks from the past. Sure, I’ve known you for 23 years, but apparently you’ve always been a bitch and you’ve been sucking me dry for that long. CHOP! It makes me sad, because they’re part of the background of most of my adventures, but whatchagonnado? I just worry that when I die no one will come to my funeral. And that’d be so sad.

Lastly, I think about this EVERY single morning: I love Rome. It pisses me off A LOT, but I turn a corner every morning and find myself head over heels in love with it all over again. If this government and these fascist dumbasses keep up, I will have to move to Sweden soon, but let it be known that it’ll be heartbreaking for me to go.

Gratuitous Rome shot

Why, hasn’t it been a while? I’m knee deep in summer here in Rome. Abusing my A/C priviledges and enjoying the long long days. Along with my cats, I’ve shedded my coat and my bad mood and started enjoying the here and now much more. I’ve told some necessary fuck yous to some people in my life and, after the initial mourning, I am feeling much better about it. As terrifying as it always is, life is good out here. Not all the time and not exceptionally so, but good enough that I’ve turned that frown upside down and am flashing the good ole teeth around. It’s hot, but not sticky and I am sporting my very sexy biker’s tan. We went to a bunch of concerts and are due for many more (NIN on Wednesday, baby!).  I am taking a day here and there off work and enjoying the heck out of that. There’s nothing like wearing your jimmerjammies and knowing they can stay on (or come off, at the opportune times) for as long as you want. I am eating healthy and feeling much better about it (and not so well when I eat pizza, it seems. Oh life, you have a way with irony). I’ve also rediscovered my sex drive and I’m now a frisky 13 year old boy, always 1 step away from humping a tree. Ben has been very patient with me, in that respect. And in all others, as usual. He’s a fantastic man with fantastic hair and a common interest in not wearing pants.

Until next time!

There was never any good old days / They are today, they are tomorrow / It’s a stupid thing we say / Cursing tomorrow with sorrow. - Gogol Bordello

These lyrics have been giving me much thought lately.

All is well in Rome. I have started knitting again. And successfully. Woo! I finished a lot of unfinished projects, which is something I have been trying to apply to the rest of my life too.

-That’s half of 28 days and 1/3 of the zombies-

That’s how long I was home alone for. There was a bit of sadness in the beginning, but that soon turned into elation. I love the man I married, but I love the woman I thought I had lost along the way. I am such a heinous bitch, but I love my heinousness and my bitchosity. I love MY time and making (wrong) decisions all by my lonesome. I enjoyed re-finding myself and doing what the heck I pleased. Not that I don’t do that when Ben’s around, but like in every relationship, there is compromising (and sex). For two weeks i went without both.

And I can’t wait to have him back, now that I know I’m fine by myself. I will spend the weekend attached to the man. And sleeping. I need so much sleep. I am waiting for his flight to take off, so I can go to bed and get me some hours of sleep. I’ll try not to oversleep,  but I’ve left him at the airport once (he’ll never make me forget that), so I can’t trust myself. The trick is to not feed the cats, they’ll take care of letting me know it’s time to wake up.

is what I say. And how I feel. I give myself another hour, then I’m gonna start enjoying being home alone. This has been one sickly household this week. Between coughing, high fevers, heavy sweating (and no heavy petting) and blocked airways, we went the whole range of the dreaded flu. I had to take 4 days off work and I am still coughing.

-Much later

So far today I have:

-eaten really crappy soup out of a bag. It was so salty I am still drinking (and bloating, I’m sure)

-done a load of laundry and cleared out the hamper

-done dishes

-taken long, warm shower

-talked to myself outloud WAY more than an adult person should. I find myself including this little commentary whenever I make a move. I have found out I have quite the witty insight on current events between the kitchen and the balcony

-ordered my first delivery kebab. It was good and had mayo in it. Thankfully, I’m a big mayo fan. I rate this place a 6 (and I did so loudly while eating. Really, I am quite amused by the fact I can’t shut up)

-managed to stress out Ben who, upon arrival in PA, had already dismissed me until tomorrow. Kept him on the phone for 40 minutes to show him that’s not how we do it

-made plans (very tentative ones, but still) to hang out with people this weekend.
And now I am off to pop in Some Like it Hot and enjoy me some Marilyn Monroe and Jack Lemmon (and Tony Curtis, I guess). I might even knit. Who knows, the night is young!

I am in such a frenzy. I am on a high from having all this time and only me to decide what to do with it, I keep running around in circles trying to focus and failing. It’s still a lot of fun, regardless.

This year my capital sin of choice has been envy. I have envied like never before. I have turned green and greener with each day. I have neglected the good in my life, to shift focus onto someone else’s life. And not enjoy what I saw. I have hated it, but couldn’t resist. Envy is the perfect complement to any pity party I’ve ever thrown together. It sinks you in deeper, while all the while slapping you in the face.

I’ve envied: thin people, people with a plan, people with a career, people with money, cats that sleep all day, funny people, intelligent people, people who get away with shit, people who have people to rely on, people with big families, people with a lot of friends, people who are loved, people who love with abandon, happy people, thinking people, thought of people, envied people, powerful people, people with more interests than sitting on their ass, creative people, people who grow, people who change, people that have inner peace, people who try harder, people who try at all, people who like other people, people who have fun, people who don’t hold grudges, people who take it in stride. And the list goes on.

This year I’ve learned that being a bitch doesn’t win you any friends. I’ve been hostile and entitled and uncompromising and, quite surprisingly, ended up alone. I still have some entitlement and I haven’t forgiven most, but I vow to keep a more open mind, to give people a second chance.

And yet 2008 was still full of hope and promise and I am so very very happy I got to spend it with a few,  select, awesomely special people. I’ll try to be better in 2009 and hopefully 2009 will be good to me too.

Happy New Year!

I keep thinking of posting, but not actually doing so. I started yesterday and then upon shutting down, I shut down the post. It’s 5 days until Xmas and this year it does feel like Xmas. It doesn’t feel like poop under my shoe, stinking up the room and grossing me out. Quite an improvement from last year. This year I put up a tree and I bought gifts (albeit late). This year there is cheer and quite a lot of spirit. There will be a Xmas eve dinner and a Xmas lunch. And happiness. And that terrifies me. I cannot function on normal. I have to be in overdrive to not be devoured whole by anxiety. Relaxing makes me grow 5 ulcers. My “at peace” state is the same of the pretty girl in the horror movie, right before the knife comes out of the darkness and turns her into stew meat. I cannot conceive, nor enjoy, these times without knowing that it’s all temporary. It blows. And things have been good for a while, which means the expiration date is fast approaching.

And then the other day I was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and noticed how rotten our lucky bamboo has gotten

(photographic proof)

and I was sad. Somehow I always interpret these things as omens (obviously my being mentally deranged has nothing to do with it).  And then I realized that this year has been good. Good and somewhat eh, but not sucky to the extent many other years have been. We have sucked the luck straight out of that tiny bamboo. Thank you little Ikea bamboo! (and I think the fact we haven’t thrown it away yet shows how unflinchingly optimistic we are)

And in better news yet, we have a spare! More luck is on its way.

This week has been dreadful. Well, not dreadful really, but I’ve been in a hell of a mood. It ranged from IWANNAEATEVERYTHINGAROUNDME,MAYBEEVENYOU! to bouts of IWILLKILLYOUSOHARDYOU’LLBEGMETOKILLYOUAGAIN. My hormones have been raging, raging so hard I thought, at first, I had finally reached the end of my sanity and was now doomed to roam the streets muttering to myself, waving my fist at others and drooling (only the drooling would be new, the rest I already do quite proudly). The biggest cause of grrrr has been my job. I feel like an idiot for even questioning the awesome that is my $20/hour job, but this week had nothing to do with reasonable. It was all about the gut. And the gut is fierce! I work with 2 wonderful women. One is a selfless, professional, all-around great woman. The other is a total hippy who makes me laugh. They’re supportive and appreciative and fun. My boss, on the other hand… He’s a primadonna. And he has moods. And 70% of the time those moods don’t affect me. He has P(owertripping)M(an)S(yndrome). He gets a high from treating us poorly. It’s all good… It’s all good until he catches me during a week like this one and then it stops being good. Or remotely fun. This week I’ve wanted to wear the pointiest shoes and just attack his crotch repeatedly. I was hired as an Office Assistant, I was not hired as a maid. I can understand all of us chipping in on the cleaning, but I’m NOT a frickin’ cleaning lady. When I turn on that vacuum cleaner, I just want to fall into a coma. I see my life  slipping away. I don’t want to be this forever, but on weeks like this, I don’t want to be this at all. NO MORE! I am tired of being treated like crap by him, I am sick of his double-guessing every move. I cannot stand the fact the ratio is 3 females to 1 man and he still ALWAYS leaves the seat up. I am at that point of fed up I have started antagonizing him. This can’t end well.

I tend to hold on tight to my birthday. I have a love/hate relationship with them, but since I’m a) a self-centered bitch, and b) always up to the “well, since it’s your birthday…” priviledges, I always let it linger for as long as Ben allows me to. We spent my actual birthday in Vienna, where I was treated to Sacher torte, snow and yarn. It was fantastic. I can’t even remember a time when my birthday had been so enjoyable as this one. May this be a testament to how awesome my year 33 will be.

On Friday Ben, Cara, Kate and I headed on to the Hard Rock Cafè and celebrated with hamburgers. I had a lot of fun. I must say that Cara has been my ray of sunshine in these unfriendly waters. Being around her is as therapeutic as being around our Chubby cat.

On Saturday we went knitting with Kate for her last day in Rome. I have such mixed feelings about the knit café. I like hooking up with knitters, but when the talk focuses ONLY on knitting and/or crocheting, I wanna smash my head against a hard surface. Maybe my expectations are just unreasonable. Or maybe our Barnes and Noble past set an unrepeatable precedent. After the knitting, we snuck Cara and Kate @ Vincent’s for the most delicious Thanksgiving feast. Oy vey! Needless to say my diet went on a 3 day hiatus and I need to get back on track or else.

Ben has started his Italian course (he started on the 24th) and is already speaking in Italian. It’s quite amazing. And, despite his recent disappointment, I am sure he’ll spring back and will be back to charming the ladies in no time. And in Italian, nonetheless.

Now I am off to wear a bra and wait for Cara to make her way here. We’re gonna have a busy week ahead.

it even makes capitalizing the first letter of every sentence hard.

I’m 4 days away from my birthday in Vienna and I am so excited. We leave on Thursday and the big panic will begin on Wednesday, for now I enjoy the calm before the storm and I sit here wishing for a snowy birthday. This week has been exciting. And not just because WotLK came out (only WoW lovers will get that), and not just because I have a Blackberry phone that is rocking my pants so hard they keep promising to fall off. The thing that has filled my heart with yeah has been reconnecting with Mrs. Harris. She was the principal of my beloved school: the International School of Rome. I always say I’ve had the happiest childhood, but this woman had so much to do with it. And it is such a powerful emotion to reconnect with people from so long ago. I hope I can snatch her for an afternoon meetup and just bask in her glory and my memories.

The lazy has also kept me from posting a blog entry about our formidable guest: The Producer. Back in August 2007 (on a warm Saturday afternoon, in fact), my in-laws threw us a good riddance farewell party. During that party, a band was born. Sarah, Angela, Ben, Matt, Brian and I decided to celebrate the momentous occasion by forming Nothing But Socks. We lost one producer to the celebrations, but Sarah has taken it upon herself to keep the band going by making a Producer herself. He is fantastic and his moustache screams nothing but (socks?) respectability and good business sense. He arrived to us 10 days ago and we gave him time to adjust to the time difference. We finally took him out on Saturday and this is how it went…

He got on the scooter and demanded to drive, but then decided otherwise when faced with the fact he’d be wearing a helmet. Turns out his vanity trumps his need for independence.

It seems as if the Producer is flying through the streets of Rome, he does have a cape after all.

We finally arrived at the comically named café for our knitful afternoon.

Here The Producer sat us down for a pep talk. Notice the stern look and business posture.

Once we were done with our pre-knitting strategy, we dove onto the yarn. Some people more literally than others.

And when I started slacking, he made his way to me and set me straight.

It was finally time to relax. The Producer, despite being a very conscientious man, managed to drink his puny weight in red wine. Notice the wobble in his demeanour.

We waited for him to sober up, backpacked him up and moved onto new adventures.

We went out to dinner to one of our favorite places: the Greek restaurant whose name we ignore. Here is The Producer posing in front of the restaurant.

And here is Cara explaining the ins and outs of the gyros to him.

On the way back home, I decided to show The Producer my school. I feel like a bio-pic would be quite a boost to our band’s career and we went scouting for locations. That’s the window of my last year’s class. Tell your kids!

And here The Producer is about to reenact the famous fountain scene from La Dolce Vita. The fountain is not Fontana di Trevi, but the fountain from my favorite square. The picture quality is pink and horrible, apparently Ben’s camera is on its way out.

And then we all went home and enjoyed a quiet evening. The Producer is making calls and arranging meetings, this reunion will happen!